A Voice From The Deep
by Tuttle4077
Summary: Kinch gets a message over the radio. Routine stuff, right?


Ummm, okay, another attempt at a drama, so be nice. I had to break my funny bone to do it...

This, of course, is a response to a challenge. Two, actually, now that I think about it. Anyway, it's the "A Cry in the Dark" Challenge. Kinch hears a cry for help come over the radio. He has no idea who it is or where they are. What does he do to help? Does he succeed? And how does he handle it emotionally?

It's also an answer to Hubbles' challenge/dare to get the story levels up to 486 in the next few weeks or so.

By the way, I don't own Hogan's Heroes. Check.

So, anyway, without further ado...

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A VOICE FROM THE DEEP

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Sergeant James Kinchloe wasn't the bitter type. But right now, as he yawned and rubbed his eyes in the dim lights of the tunnels under Stalag 13, he couldn't help but be a little envious of his fellow prisoners and saboteurs. While he was busy trying to fix the transmitter in his radio, they were all asleep in their bunks up top. Not that he really minded, after all, they were the ones who had gone out to get him the extra parts, but it would've been nice if it could wait until the morning. But the colonel had insisted it be done as soon as possible, so there he was.

With another yawn, Kinch checked his watch- a little after two in the morning. He was getting too old for this, he mused. He was getting too old to stay up all night, worrying until the others came back from whatever mission they were on. Too old to stay up to fix a radio or translate information to code and send it off to London. Heck, he was getting too old to be a POW and saboteur, period. At least, that's how he felt at the moment.

Shaking his head, Kinch sighed and plunked a wrench into his toolbox. Five minutes. He needed just five minutes of sleep and then he'd go back to work.

Stretching, he got out of his chair and made his way to the ladder leading up to the barracks. It was a good thing that his bunk served as the entrance, he thought as he started to climb. He was always the last one up and the last one to bed.

He was halfway up when his radio started to squawk. Rubbing his forehead, Kinch groaned. Figured. That blasted thing never let him sleep when he wanted to. It was probably London calling with information or to see if their transmitter was up and running again. Sighing, he put on his headset and grabbed a notebook and pen.

"Das ist U-1408," a voice crackled over the radio. What? Kinch shook his head. It took a moment for his sleepy brain to realize that the voice on the other end was obviously not London calling. As the voice on the other end repeated the call, Kinch shook himself awake.

"This is U-1408, requesting immediate assistance," the voice said. "Grid 54-90. Engaged enemy battleship at 0145 hours. U-1408 crippled and losing power."

Kinch listened with interest and scribbled the information on his notepad. Perhaps London would find this interesting. If nothing else, it would confirm the loss of another U-Boat and get the battleship captain some recognition.

Suddenly, alarms filled the air on the other end. Kinch ripped the headset off and massaged his ears. Gingerly, he grabbed it again and slipped it back on. He was met with nothing but silence.

He waited for a moment, and when nothing came, Kinch once again took off the set and rose to his feet. Well, that had been odd. And, he had to admit, a little disturbing.

With a little shiver, Kinch looked around the tunnel. It was like his second home. Actually, come to think of it, he spent more time in the tunnel than he did up top. The tunnel didn't bother him one bit; he was used to it. It wasn't unlike being in a submarine, he mused. Closed in and small with stale air and little light. Even so, the thought of being in one of those underwater tin cans made his skin crawl.

Shaking off the thought, Kinch stood and made his way to the ladder. Casting a weary glance at the radio, he began to climb, only to stop halfway and go back. As if sensing his presence, the radio came back to life. Kinch grabbed it and waited.

"This is U-1408," the familiar voice said, a little shakier than before and barely above a whisper. "We have been unable to resurface and have sunk 140 meters." Kinch felt a cold hand clench his stomach as the dirt walls around him seemed to take a step closer. 140 meters. That was roughly 460 feet. A lot further down than he was in the tunnels. That was a lot of water between them and the surface. "We need assistance immediately." No doubt, but how did they expect to be rescued from that far down? "Approximately three enemy destroyers up top, Grid 54-90."

Kinch waited, along with the other man he was sure, for someone to answer. After a few minutes of silence, the U-boat repeated its call.

The air around him was becoming unbearably stuffy and hot and yet, Kinch was shivering. The light from the lanterns on the walls dimmed as their oily smoke filled the room. Tugging at his collar, he tried to convince himself that the walls were not moving closer to him; his tired mind was playing tricks on him, that was all.

Come on, Kinch thought. Someone answer him. Anyone. The least they could say was that there was nothing they could do! But still, there was nothing. Kinch shifted in his seat and wiped a bit of sweat off his brow.

He didn't know why he cared. After all, when he was finished fixing his radio, he was planning on sending London information on a new submarine pen. He should've been happy that another U-Boat had been sunk.

But he wasn't.

In fact, all he could think about was how he'd feel if the tunnel were to suddenly collapse on top of him. In the two and a half years that he'd been at Stalag 13, there had been a number of close calls. More than once, the tunnels had collapsed, but he'd never been trapped. And if he ever were, he knew that everyone above him would work non-stop until he was free again.

The air around him became insufferably thick as he anxiously checked his watch. Fifteen minutes since the first message. Had it really only been that long? Kinch felt like he'd been waiting an eternity for someone to reply. He wondered how the sailor on the other end felt.

After the message had been repeated for the third time, Kinch found himself cursing his broken transmitter. If it were working then… what? After all, what could he do? He was probably hundreds of miles away and besides that, he was the enemy for Pete sakes. What was he going to say? Hi there, I'm an American POW and I picked up your distress call from the secret radio we have hidden in our tunnels. Sure wish I could help you, but there's not much I can do. Yeah, good thinking there.

Maybe he should wake Colonel Hogan- he'd probably have some ideas. No, Kinch shook the thought out of his head. There was nothing that could be done. Not even Colonel Hogan, if he even wanted to that was, could help the U-Boat.

The walls moved a little closer and Kinch unconsciously gulped a deep breath of air. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore.

Kinch's role in the sabotage unit based at Stalag 13 was pretty passive. He didn't go out and meet Underground agents, or pose as a German officer to infiltrate top secret facilities, or any of the other crazy stunts the other guys pulled. On the odd occasion, he would go out and help blow up a rail road or a munitions plant, but mostly, Kinch worked around camp- more particularly in the tunnels and at his radio. Despite this, Kinch considered himself a man of action. And he wasn't just going to sit back and listen while the crew of U-1408 slowly suffocated in the deep.

Turning away from the radio, Kinch fiddled with his operator's box, which connected him to the various telephones in and around Stalag 13. He waited for the line to connect and a moment later, he heard the voice of the Hammelburg operator come through.

"Get me-" Kinch looked behind him to a map hanging on the wall. Hmmm… Grid 54-90. The closest naval base would be- "Wilhelmshaven Marine base immediately," Kinch barked into his microphone. It was time for General, no Admiral Kinchmeyer to step in. "Who is this?" Kinch demanded when a new voice came on the line.

"C-c-captain F-f-"

"Stop that," Kinch barked.

"Y-yes sir. This is Captain Fuchs. Wh-"

"I am Admiral Kinchmeyer," Kinch said smoothly, smacking an imaginary riding crop against his thigh. "We have just received a distress call from one of our U-Boats, U-1408."

"We have also picked up the transmission Herr Admiral."

"Well?!"

"Well what sir?" the captain sounded very confused and very intimidated.

"What are you going to do about it? Your base is the closest. What is being done?" Kinch demanded.

"Nothing sir," Fuchs said simply.

Kinch slammed his fist down onto his desk. "Nothing?" he repeated. "Why not?"

"Nothing can be done Admiral," Fuchs explained. "They are at the bottom of the ocean. Even if there was something we could do, there are too many enemy ships in the sector."

"Then why haven't you informed them?" The least they could do was tell them nothing could be done. At least give the poor sailor some sort of closure instead of letting him continue with his plea.

"U-1408's orders were to maintain strict radio silence. And our orders are to not reply or the enemy might find them."

Kinch felt himself grow hot. "The enemy already found them. If there is nothing you can do to help then-"

"I am sorry Admiral, but I have my orders and they come from Commodore Dönitz' office."

Kinch growled to himself and ripped the headset's cord out of the box, effectively cutting the captain off.

Jumping to his feet, Kinch began to pace, feeling the need to push the walls back to where they were supposed to be. Casting a weary eye to the radio, Kinch stopped and stood silently, just listening to the message being repeated over and over, with less and less enthusiasm each time.

Maybe he should just shut it off- forget the whole thing ever happened and go to bed. After all, he'd done all he could. Their own people couldn't, or wouldn't, help them.

Anger bubbled inside him and Kinch suddenly turned and punched the hard dirt wall as hard as he could. He winced, regretting his impetuous act and grabbed his wounded hand. "They could at least let him know they can't do anything!" Kinch growled furiously as he began to pace. He turned and glared at the radio. "No one's coming for you! Stop it!"

The message quietly repeated itself again.

Well, it was up to him then. Setting his jaw, Kinch marched up to the radio and grabbed his tools. It wouldn't take him more than an hour to fix this damn thing if he just concentrated.

The hairs on the back of Kinch's neck raised and goose bumps covered his arms. It took a moment for Kinch to realize that his uneasiness came from the complete silence that crowded the tunnels. His heart stopped for a moment and then crashed into his chest. What had happened? Had U-1408 been destroyed?

"Come on, where are you?" Kinch asked, his hand nervously hovering by the radio controls. He was tempted to go searching for the signal again, but he wasn't about the risk it. His contact with U-1408 had been chance to begin with.

"Das ist U-1408." Kinch let out a sigh of relief when he heard the quiet voice again. "We have evaded enemy ship and are heading inland." Flopping his head back, Kinch squeezed his eyes shut and offered a quick thanks to the ceiling. The heaviness in the air lifted and Kinch sucked in a deep, refreshing breath.

Suddenly, the sound of an explosion made Kinch jump to his feet, his heart pounding. Another and another explosion filled the air before silence once again descended. What the hell?!

Gripping the back of his chair as tightly as he could, Kinch watched the radio, trying to figure out what had happened. There was only one thing that could've happened, he finally decided- the enemy must have found them.

Wait… What was he doing?! The question practically slapped him in the face. The enemy? He was the enemy! And yet, Kinch's stomach started to knot when the silence persisted.

Kinch glanced at his watch. Nearly 0330. An hour and a half. An hour and a half at 450 feet. The thought almost made Kinch sick.

He needed air.

Kinch glanced at the ladder, his means of escaping the ever shrinking tunnels. But if there was one thing that could be said about Kinch, it was that he was stubborn. Whether U-1408 was destroyed or not, he was going to fix the transmitter. Maybe he could get a hold of the Allied destroyers in the sector and tell them to lay off.

The idea was foolish, even treasonous, but Kinch held onto it nonetheless.

As he worked, Kinch tried to ignore his rampaging imagination. Just what was happening on U-1408? What was it like to be trapped in the middle of a depth charge attack? Kinch wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he suspected it would be like a featherweight going fifteen rounds with Joe Louis.

Finally!

Kinch dropped his tools and closed the radio. It was finished. Now, if he could just get a hold of that boat. His hand shook as he grabbed his mike. This was crazy, but he had to do it.

"U-1408, come in U-1408!"

He wondered if he would be able to hear the reply over the sound of his pounding heart.

"U-1408! Come in U-1408!" Kinch called more urgently.

Nothing.

"U-1408, please respond!"

Seconds ticked by. Minutes. Hours. Kinch lost track waiting.

Finally, he laid the microphone down.

Slowly rising to his feet, Kinch grabbed hold of the table and squeezed his eyes shut. "Damn," he whispered.

He felt ten times older than he had at the beginning of the night. Giving the radio one last look, Kinch slowly shuffled to the ladder and began to climb up.

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Colonel Hogan yawned and stretched as he stepped out into the common room. He was up earlier than usual, but that just meant he got first crack at the coffee. Grabbing the pot from the stove, Hogan poured himself a cup and took a sip. He stopped midway through a quirked an eyebrow.

Kinch was sitting on the edge of his bed, head drooped and hands in his lap. Putting his mug down, he walked over to the sergeant and gently put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Kinch, you awake?"

Kinch tensed under the touch and nodded.

"Fix the radio?"

"Yeah."

Hogan cocked his head to one side. Kinch was a man of few words, but not this few. "Well, good. Listen if something's bothering you then-"

"I'm fine," Kinch mumbled.

"Right." Leaving his side, Hogan walked back to the stove and grabbed his coffee. He watched Kinch for a moment, but finally shrugged and took another drink. "Oh, did you get that information to London on the submarines?"

Kinch looked up at him. There was an expression in his eyes that Hogan couldn't quite read. Finally, Kinch let out a deep sigh and got up. "I'm on it."

"Good, because London needs that information fast. The less U-boats out there to wreak havoc, the better."

Kinch looked over his shoulder at Hogan and smiled sadly. "Yeah. I guess you're right."


End file.
